Old-Fashioned Killing Machine
by Sylarfan
Summary: Set between Winter Solider and Civil War, before the bombing in Vienna. Bucky befriends a woman and her young son in Romania. As they grow closer, it becomes harder for Bucky to hide the truth about who he is and fears what will happen if she does.
1. Chapter 1

Author's notes: This story was inspired by an episode of Avatar: The Last Airbender titled, "Zuko Alone".

Also, because I don't speak or read/write Romanian, I used brackets [] whenever it is spoken. For anyone who does, if you feel I need to be corrected on dialogue, feel free to send me a friendly PM.

**Old-Fashioned Killing Machine**

**Chapter 1**

Bucky stood in front of the market vender, franticly searching his pockets for more change. Embarrassment warmed his face in the crisp afternoon air as he mumbled apologies to all the staring faces.

"[I have it.]"A woman wearing a grey knit hat over long dark hair spoke in Romanian. A cloud of mist followed her words.

"[No, please,]" Bucky pleaded, "[that is kind of you, but—]"

The woman cut off his objection, "[It is okay, you can pay me back. You live in my building.]" She explained handing the vender a few bills, who took it graciously.

"[Thank you,]" Bucky said, still feeling the sting of humiliation.

She paid for her own purchase. "[You are welcome. You are American?]"

"[Is it that obvious?]" He replied.

"Your accent gives you away," she said in English with an accent of her own. "My name is Lena."

He stood in silence. Having only recently regained some sense of self, he wasn't sure how to respond.

"Do you have a name?" She pressed.

"Um…it's Bucky."

"Bucky? Is that short for something?"

"I think so."

"You are not sure?"

"You ask a lot of questions," he gathered his bags. "Thank you for the help, really, but you didn't have to do that."

"I did not do it because I had to," she said.

They walked quietly down the busy sidewalk, weaving in and out of other pedestrians until they reached the entrance of their apartment building.

"Are you looking for work?" She asked him.

The question sparked suspicion. "What makes you think I'm looking for work?"

"You are living in this place and you did not have enough money to pay for your groceries."

He studied the compassion in her russet brown eyes; pondering if she could be trusted.

"If you are interested, I know someone." She explained as they started up the long spiraling stairs. "You will be renovating an old house. We could use the extra strength."

"We?"

"Yes. I have been working with him for a few weeks; painting, pasting wallpaper, placing tile, cleaning…I will call him and see what he will offer you. He will pay you in cash."

"Yeah, I'd appreciate it."

"I will let you know soon." She stopped outside her door.

"I'm on the floor above you, but across the hall," he explained, pointing at his apartment through the bars in the stairwell.

"I know," she said as she opened her door and stepped inside.

He climbed the next flight of stairs and entered his own small, dingy apartment. One room, furnished with a bed, a few crates to store the minute things he owned and a kitchen with minimal amounts of food. The bathroom had a tub and shower combo, which was a luxury. It wasn't a place to call home, but he had a roof over his head and a place to lay low.

After eating a sandwich for dinner, he laid on his bed reading "Frankenstein" by Mary Shelley. A knock at his door jerked him to attention.

He placed the open book face down on the quilt, saving his place and headed cautiously to the door.

It was Lena. She offered no greeting of 'hello'; jumping right into the reason for her visit.

"Emil has agreed to hire you." She held a small piece of paper with an address written on it. "He wants you to do masonry work and repair the roof. This is the address. Be there at eight o'clock tomorrow morning or there is no deal."

He reluctantly took the paper from her fingers.

"Do you need transportation? I can drive you," she offered.

"If you don't mind…"

"If I minded, I would not have offered," she smiled. "I will be leaving at seven o'clock. I must drop my son off at school on the way."

"Okay," he responded. "I'll see you then."

"Good." She turned and headed down the stairs without a farewell.

* * *

His alarm chirped at 6:00am. Showered and dressed by six-thirty, he ate a cup of yogurt and drank a mug of orange juice before making his way down to Lena's; not wanting to be late. Something told him it probably wasn't a good idea to be on the receiving end of Lena's wrath.

He rapped his knuckles on the door.

Lena's voice spoke loudly in her native tongue before she wrenched open the door.

"You are early."

He looked down at his watch. It was eight minutes to seven.

"Come inside," she said.

Lena's apartment was slightly larger than Bucky's. She had the same open space with a kitchen and living room, but there was a short hallway leading to one bedroom and a small bathroom. A square dining table with four mismatched chairs sat just off the kitchen. In the tiny space of the living room sat a love seat, a reclining chair and a small television on a metal stand.

The smell of coffee and bacon hung thick in the air. A young boy with short blond hair stood busily stuffing his back pack with supplies.

"This is my son, Daniel. Daniel, this is Bucky. He lives on the floor above us."

"Hello," Daniel's big brown eyes studied him suspiciously.

"Hello," Bucky replied.

"There is some bacon in the pan and coffee in the pot." Lena offered.

"I already ate, but thank you."

"If you change your mind..."

After five minutes of last minute clean up, they were out the door and in her tiny, yellow, manual two-door. It's cheap build and whirring engine gave it a toy-like quality.

They reached the school within minutes. Daniel kissed Lena on the cheek as he shrugged his back pack over his shoulders, "[Good bye, mama.]"

"[Good bye, darling. I love you,]" she said as he climbed out of the car. "[I will see you this evening.]"

Bucky regarded Lena while she drove; an awkward silence hung between them. He hadn't paid much attention to her outward appearance since they had met; always more concerned about who to trust and whether to trust himself.

She was short with a petite frame. Thick, straight hair, a deep mahogany with light brown roots, indicating the color wasn't natural. Dark russet brown eyes, warm ivory skin and a full bottom lip with straight teeth, except for one crooked top lateral incisor.

She caught him staring at her. "Is something wrong?"

His eyes darted away, feeling his face warm. "I know how to patch a roof, but I don't know anything about masonry." It was a legitimate concern, but mostly he wanted to deflect the fact that he had been staring at her.

"Do not worry. We have a few men that know everything. They will show you," she explained. "These men, they are old and soft. They need someone who can do…heavy lifting. They will probably use you like a workhorse. Is that how you say it?"

He sighed and turned his gaze back out the window. "Yeah, that's how you say it."

"I am sorry, did I offend you?" She asked.

"No, it's just…what if I don't live up to your expectations," he said, annoyed that she just assumed he'd want to be used like some machine. He'd been doing that for seventy years.

Her eyes left the road to briefly graze over his form, "You look pretty sturdy to me."

"How old's your boy?" He asked, redirecting the conversation.

"Seven."

"Where's his father?"

"He is dead."

Guilt washed over him. "I'm sorry…"

"There is nothing to be sorry about," she said as she turned the corner. "We are here."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Working on the house turned out to be more tolerable than Bucky expected. Though he was used for grunt work and did almost all of the heavy lifting, he appreciated that it kept him focused on something other than is identity crisis for a little while.

"You are like some kind of machine." Lena said as she walked by him.

"What?" He spat, sounding more defense than he intended.

"I just mean that all day you carry these things, as if they weigh nothing and you do not seem to tire. You better slow down or you will hurt yourself," she explained.

"I'm fine."

"We will see how you feel in the morning."

The next few days went on with the same routine. Lena would drive Bucky to the worksite, then home again. Their conversations became more relaxed and effortless and the silences they shared seemed more comfortable.

"Do you want to join us for supper?" Lena offered as she parked. Daniel climbed out of the car, eager to get inside.

"I don't want to impose…"

"You would not be imposing. If I did not want your company, I would not have asked. And I see what you buy at the market. It will not do with all the work you are doing."

Bucky considered her offer. It would be nice to have an actual home cooked meal and Lena was friendly enough. "Alright, I'll join you."

"Good. Supper will be served at six-thirty."

Six-thirty sharp he was at her door. Hair still damp form his shower, he stood in a clean pair of jeans and a fresh long-sleeved shirt. He only owned one pair of boots and they were filthy from the renovation job, so he resorted to wearing only clean socks.

He balled his gloved fist to knock on the door. The synthetic material stretched snug across his knuckles, concealing his robotic hand. He worried the gloves would stir questions. Wearing them in the chilly weather and for work was one thing, but for dinner was another.

When Lena opened the door the smell of savory meat hit his senses. Her eyes scanned his form, stopping at his feet.

"I didn't have a clean pair of shoes. I assumed you didn't want me tracking in dust and mortar," he explained.

"That is very thoughtful of you," she smiled, "Come in."

She directed him to his seat at the table, already set for three. Daniel sat on the loveseat, enthralled with a small electronic device.

"Daniel, put that away and wash your hands. Our guest has arrived and dinner is about to be served." Lena ordered him. He obeyed without argument.

"I hope pork is okay for you," she asked, Bucky.

"Yes, it's very okay."

"Would you like some Brandy?"

"Yes, thank you."

Lena lead most of the conversation through dinner, sparse as it was. She asked Bucky random questions about how he was liking the job or what foods he preferred; nothing too personal. For that he was thankful.

"Why are you wearing those gloves?" Daniel blurted out; putting an end to the unspoken 'no personal questions' rule.

"Daniel, don't be rude," Lena scolded.

"[But he is being rude by not removing his gloves while he eats. You always make me remove mine, even when the heat is not working.]"

"[Daniel, I will not have you—]"

Bucky held up a hand to calm her words. "It's alright, it's a reasonable question."

They both focused on him in baited curiosity. He knew he would have to explain this obvious peculiarity at some point, but he still felt the weight of their pressing stare.

Stalling for a few more seconds, he picked up his glass and gulped down the brandy. Though the amber liquid wouldn't do him any favors, due to is over active metabolism.

"I…have a…prosthetic arm," he said, holding up his left hand.

Daniel perked up. "Really! I want to see!"

"[Daniel, I've had enough out of you!]" Lena said.

"It's okay, I'm used to it." He lied. "It's not a very good prosthetic. I don't like for anyone to see it. I find it much less humiliating to just wear gloves."

Daniel nodded in understanding. "You could wear only one glove."

"That's true, that's a good suggestion," Bucky said, removing the glove from his right hand.

Daniel grinned, diving back to his meal. Lena's brown eyes meet Bucky's; an apologetic expression spread across her face. He reassured her with a warm smile.

Lena handed Bucky a clean soapy dish. "You are welcome to stay a while longer." She said.

"Oh, I…I don't want to overstay my welcome." Bucky rinsed the suds from the plate.

"Are you not enjoying my company?"

Avoiding the question, Bucky quietly dried the dish and placed it on the stack to be put away.

"Because I am enjoying yours," she continued. "I do not have many friends. It is nice to have someone to talk to."

"Me too."

Lena smiled, placing her hand on his gloved robotic one. He wondered if she could feel the coolness of the metal under the material. He slipped his hand out from under hers and finished drying a dish.

Bucky sat down next to Daniel on the love seat. The boy held a small device in his hands. An animated fox jumped around the screen, avoiding obstacles and defeating villains.

"Daniel," Lena called from the kitchen. "It is time for you to put the phone down. I will not tell you again."

"This is a phone?" Bucky asked.

"Yes," Daniel looked at him curiously. "You do not have one?"

"Not one like that."

"Do you want to try?"

"Uh, I wouldn't even know where to start."

"It is easy. Just tap your finger on the screen to jump over things and then tap things that attack you to fight them."

Lena walked up behind the couch, watching the two of them.

"You have never played a game on a phone?"

"The last phone I used was just for communication," he said as he watched the fox run away in defeat. The words 'Try Again' flashed across the screen. He tapped it, setting him up for a second try.

"[Mama, can we have some apple tart?]" Daniel interrupted.

"Speak English in front of our guest," she said.

Bucky sat the phone on the crudely made coffee table. "[No, please. Do not change your habits because of me.]" He insisted.

"You are very polite," Lena beamed. "But he needs the excuse to practice his English."

"Can we, mama?" Daniel nagged again.

"Yes, yes. I will put on some tea as well."

Bucky stood. "I'll help."

"Where do these manners come from?" She asked. Her eyes turned to Daniel who had resumed playing the game she had just asked him to put away. "Daniel could learn well from you."

"I'd just prefer to be useful than a burden."

"You are not a burden, but if you wish to help you can warm the plate of tarts in the microwave for one minute while I make the tea."

Bucky puzzled over the small black oven on the counter. Though he had seen them in a few hotel rooms he'd stayed in, he never attempted to use one.

"You looked confused." Lena said.

"I uh…I've never really used one of these…" he muttered.

"Have you been asleep for the past fifty years?" She asked with a bewildered expression.

Bucky's eyes flashed to hers. "I can't remember things…"

"Oh," her expression softened, "I see. Here," She opened the microwave door and sat the plate of tarts inside. "Just press this button and select the time you wish. It heats very fast so only a short time is needed."

Bucky watched as the inside lit up, the plate of tarts spinning slowly as it hummed. Then the machine beeped.

Lena removed the plate of warm tarts. "See, it is easy."

"I think I'll stick to using a regular oven," he said.

"You are so old fashioned," she smiled.

"Mama, can we watch the television?" Daniel asked.

"Yes, but sit on the floor to eat your tart."

Daniel plopped down on the rug and switched on the television. Bucky and Lena settled in on the small couch.

Bucky took notice of the oval shaped pendant that hung around Lena's neck. A large emerald sat at its center with small diamonds lining the gold frame. The clasp of the golden chain had fallen to the front.

"Your clasp, it's in the front." He reached for the pendant, holding it still as he guided the chain around her neck.

"Thank you," she said taking hold of the pendant and glancing down at the sparkling jewels. "It belonged to my mother and my grandmother before her. I hope Daniel will have a daughter someday so that I may pass it on to her."

"It's beautiful."

Her dark eyes bore into his, swirling with intense ardor. Bucky shifted uncomfortably in is seat, directing his gaze to the television.

"Daniel, it is getting late. You need to have a bath."

"Aww." He whined

"Go. Now."

"Okay," Daniel moped his way down the short hallway.

"I should probably go," Bucky said getting to his feet.

Lena followed him to the door.

"Thank you for dinner and dessert," he said.

"You are welcome."

Lena stood close. Too close. Bucky's heart galloped in his chest as she gazed up at him with dark sparking eyes, lips parted. He may have been disconnected from the modern world but there was no mistaking the body language of the woman in front of him and he wasn't ready for it.

"I'll…see you in the morning," he said, stepping closer to the door.

"Yes." Her hopeful expression faded.

Not wanting to leave her discouraged, he gathered her fingers in his flesh hand and raised it to his lips, pressing them gently against the back of her hand. "Goodnight," he said.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The day was cool but the sun shined bright. Sweat rolled down the side of Bucky's face as he methodically positioned the brick to match the pattern of the chimney on the roof. He removed his cap and mopped the perspiration from his forehead with his sleeve. After tugging his cap securely back on his head he reached for the mortar trowel. A loose roof tile slid under his foot, throwing him off balance. His arms instinctively reached for purchase, pulling over a small stack of bricks as he barreled down the slant of the roof. Another worker extended an arm, catching Bucky by the back of his jacket, but the momentum pulled them both over the edge. They crashed to the ground. Bricks and tools scattered down around them. Bucky held up his metal arm, saving himself from a brick to the face.

A small crowd gathered around them. His attempted rescuer howled in pain, clutching his shoulder as blood trickled down his face.

The gleaming sun hindered Bucky's vision until the silhouette of a person blocked the rays. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the sudden change.

"You are bleeding," Lena's familiar voice rang out.

"I'm okay," he said as he pushed himself up. A gush of warmth spread over his right side. The mortar trowel laid on the ground, its thin edge painted red with blood.

"No, you are not," Lena argued. "I am taking you to the hospital."

"NO! No hospitals. I'm fine." He clutched is side, limping towards the building.

Lena followed. "Then I will take you home and we will clean and mend your wound there."

Bucky didn't flinch when Lena pressed the warm rag against his wound. "Does it not hurt?" She asked.

"A little."

"You need to be stitched."

"It's not that deep."

"You do not see what I see," she snapped.

Bucky remained silent; there was no use in arguing.

Lena applied several butterfly bandages and covered the area with a clean gauze patch. "You are lucky you were not hurt anywhere else."

"Yeah," he reluctantly agreed.

She sweep his hair away from his eyes. Her finger tips gently brushed over the curve of his jaw. "Maybe you should rest tomorrow."

"No, I'll be fine."

Her intense gaze held his once again, refusing his dismissal.

"You are stubborn," she said.

Trepidation overwhelmed him as she leaned closer. Desperate to stretch the distance between them he pressed his back against the couch, but she chased him down until there was nowhere left for him to go. Her lips collided with his. Warmth from her small hand covered his cheek. His anxiety began to melt away, letting his eyes fall closed. He splayed his flesh hand against the center of her back, pulling her closer. Then all too soon, they broke apart. Her deep brown eyes seemed to plead with him. He wasn't sure what to say or do next. Did she want him to take the lead? Should he kiss her again?

"I must go and pick up Daniel. You are welcome to stay here and rest."

"Thank you, but I really need to get cleaned up."

"Sponge bathe, or you will ruin your bandage."

"I'll be careful."

"I will have supper served at six-thirty," she stood and held her hands out in offer to help him up.

She walked him to the door. He took her small delicate hand in his and kissed the smooth skin of her knuckles.

* * *

With a healthy appetite and new found confidence, Bucky trekked his way down to Lena's apartment. Raised voices resonated out from behind her door. Hesitating to knock, he listened. One voice clearly belonged to Lena. The other a man. He couldn't recall that she mentioned having company. He knocked.

The door swung open, revealing a man in his mid to late thirties, slightly taller than Bucky with short brown hair.

"[Who the fuck are you?]" The man asked as his grey eyes surveyed Bucky from head to toe.

Lena stood in the kitchen, chewing at one of her fingernails.

"[I'm a friend of Lena's.]" Bucky's eyes darted in her direction.

"[I am afraid Lena is not seeing friends right now. She has business to attend to.]" He moved to swing the door shut, but Bucky wedged his boot in its path.

"[I just need to ask her something…about work tomorrow…then I'll be on my way.]"

The man's cold eyes glanced down where Bucky's foot held the door; a snarl on his lip.

Lena appeared behind him. "[It is okay, Velimir. I will take care of this.]"

Velimir stepped away. Lena took his place at the door. Bucky's steel blue eyes followed Velimir as he meandered away.

"Bucky," Lena's soft voice drew his attention. "I am sorry. I had an unexpected visitor."

Her troubled expression didn't go unnoticed. "Is everything okay?"

She nodded. "Everything will be fine. I will talk to you in the morning." She tried to push the door closed but his boot remained in its way.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Alright. If you need anything…" He reluctantly slipped his foot away from the path of the door. "You know where I am."

She gave a weak smile. Bucky's gaze found Velimir's; their eyes locked hard as the door closed.

Bucky remained outside her door; no intensions of leaving. The muffled voices dispersed further into her apartment. He was only able to pick up a few words; something about payment and more time. Lena's voice suddenly ordered Daniel to go back to his room.

Bucky's hand reached for the door knob, anticipating the right moment to intervene.

The sound of heavy foot falls pounded toward the door. Velimir wrenched it opened, almost colliding with Bucky's firmly rooted frame. They exchanged ominous glances once again before the man nudged past him and left without a word.

Bucky stepped inside and found Lena sitting at the dining table, wiping her eyes with a tissue.

"Is everything alright? Did he hurt you?"

"[Mama, mama!]" Daniel called as he ran to her. She scooped him up, embracing him in her lap.

"No, he did not hurt me," she said.

"Who is he?"

"He is my handler. I pay him to keep me and Daniel safe from the ones who wish to harm us." She brushed Daniel's hair back and planted a kiss to his forehead.

"He shouldn't be threating you if he's supposed to be keeping you safe."

"I have been late on my payments to him many times. He is angry with me."

"He still shouldn't be—"

"I do not expect you to understand," she cut him off. "Please, I just need to be alone."

"I…I understand," Bucky hesitated, not wanting to overstep the boundaries of whatever relationship they had started to build. "I'll see myself out…"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Let me look at your wound," Lena said the next morning.

"It's fine. I just put a fresh bandage on."

"Let me see." If she was anything, she was persistent.

Bucky lifted the hem of his shirt, exposing the square gauze pad taped securely to his side. Lena plucked at the corner of the tape and gently peeled it down. Her eyes widened with bewildered surprise.

"It looks nearly healed. How can that be?"

"I told you it wasn't that bad," he tried to reason.

"But yesterday it was gaping," her fingers pressed against his flesh, pulling at the edge of the wound. "I was sure it needed to be stitched."

"It just bled a lot."

Lena pressed the bandage back into place. "That is very strange. I guess you were right…it just bled so much. It looked so deep."

"[Mama! I don't want to be late!]" Daniel interrupted.

"Yes, yes. Let us go."

* * *

The renovations on the house were coming to a close. Only another week of work would be needed and they would move on to the next project.

Bucky effortlessly picked up the technique of installing drywall, working faster and more efficient than the other men. Their boss, Emil, was pleased as it made up for the absence of the man who shattered his shoulder the day before.

Lena and another woman were busy painting the kitchen cabinets when Emil called for her.

"[Lena!]" He yelled. "[There is someone asking for you outside.]"

"[I am coming,]" she said as she laid down her brush and wiped her hands with rag.

Bucky's suspicions were aroused about the identity of Lena's caller. He glanced around at all the workers focused on their tasks. Taking advantage of the moment, he slipped out the door to follow.

Lena stood near the curb in front of the house, next to a shiny black car. The door opened and Velimir climbed out. Bucky crept nearer, using a gray work van as cover; keeping out of sight, but close enough to listen.

"[…the matter of payment.]" Velimir said.

"[I do not have it today. I can give you half in a week.]"

"[This has become a terrible habit, Lena. Perhaps we need to discuss other methods of payment.]"

Velimir reached out his hand and fondled the necklace around her neck. "[This must be worth something.]"

"[Please, this necklace belonged to my mother,]" Lena pleaded. "[I can pay you half in a week and—] "

"[The boy,]" he cut her off. "[Lend him to me. I can have him work off the remaining debt scrubbing the floors of my restaurant.]"

Lena refused. "[No, you cannot take Daniel. He needs to be in school. I will scrub your floors.]"

Velimir stepped closer to her. "[No. You can work off your debt in other ways.]" His hand brushed along her shoulder and down her arm as his eyes roamed over her body.

She pushed his hand away. "[No.]"

"[Either you, the boy…or the necklace.]" It wasn't a choice. It was clear he was forcing her decision to pay with her sentimental gold and diamonds.

Bucky stepped out from behind the van and marched towards them. "[How about she does none of those things and you let her pay you in a week.]"

Velimir smirked, taking a few steps to meet him. "[You think you are some kind of tough guy?]"

"[Bucky,]" Lena pleaded. "[I will deal with him. Go back inside.]"

"[You should listen to your lady friend,"] Velimir said, "[You do not want to get hurt.]"

Velimir shoved him and spat at his feet. Bucky took a step back but remained stoic.

Velimir turned back to Lena, holding out his hand for the valuable item. She reached around her neck to unhook the chain.

"[Do not give it to him.]" Bucky said.

"[This is none of your business,]" Velimir said, taking a sudden swing at Bucky's face.

Bucky caught his fist in his metal hand, holding it tight as he swung with his right. Velimir fell back from the force of the punch but Bucky yanked him back to his feet. "[It is now.]"

Blood began to trickle from Velimir's nose.

"[What have you done?!]" Lena yelled.

Bucky dropped Velimir's hand from his grip. Velimir stumbled, reaching for his face.

"[I told you I could deal with him!]" Lena snapped.

Velimir's eyes zipped from Bucky to Lena, hand filling with blood. "[Next week, _full_ payment! If you do not have it or an equivalent, my services will be revoked and you go back to your old life…Your old name.]" He gave one last scowl at Bucky before climbing back into his car.

"[You stubborn man!]" Lena spouted at Bucky before storming off into the dust of the renovations.

Surprised that Lena didn't leave him to find his own way home, Bucky wished she had. The silent tension made the drive home painfully awkward. He kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead of them, not daring to say a word.

"Why did you do that?" Her voice finally broke the silence.

Bucky furrowed his brow. "He was threatening you. I couldn't just stand there and let that happen."

"Yes, you could have. You should not have been listening in the first place."

"I was worried about you."

"You do not need to worry about me. I am not some…some…weak girl who needs rescuing."

"I didn't say you were."

"Your actions say different!"

Bucky remained quiet, turning his gaze back out the windshield.

"You put yourself in danger," her tone softer. "What if he goes to the police to say you attacked him? They could come looking for you and then you will no longer be able to hide from whatever it is you are running from."

His eyes darted back to her.

"I am not stupid, Bucky. I know you are hiding from something…that you have secrets. I know what that is like."

The buzzing of her tiny car's engine seemed louder than usual.

"Please, do not risk your safety for me," she continued. "I know how to deal with Velimir. He is mostly full of threats and nothing more. Let me handle him."

Bucky nodded in agreement. Warmth from her hand spread across the top of his thigh. "But it did feel good to see him get a punch to the face."

* * *

Bucky sat on Lena's two-person couch comfortably full from the hearty goulash dinner Lena had served. Her anger with him from earlier in the evening had fizzled away.

"Daniel is settled in bed," she said as she appeared from the short dark hallway. "I am going to make some tea. Would you like some?"

"No, thank you."

She put the tea kettle on the stove and plopped down next to Bucky on the small couch. Switching through the channels with the remote, she stopped on a scripted comedy show. Bucky didn't know the name or the plot. He didn't care. All his focus was on Lena; admiring the delicate smile that brightened her face and the sincerity of her unrestrained laughter.

Whistling from the tea kettle interrupted his thoughts. Lena went to the kitchen, prepared her tea, then returned with her hands wrapped around warm mug. She nestled against his right side as he draped his arm around her shoulder, tugging her close.

She sipped her tea, laughing out loud every so often at the bumbling antics of the fictional characters. His heart swelled with affection for her and he kissed the top of her head, drinking in the aroma of lavender that clung to her hair.

Lena sat her mug on the table and turned to face him. Brushing a few strands of hair out of his face, she pressed her mouth against his. Her tongue swept over his bottom lip, begging for entrance. He parted his lips, deepening the kiss. Honey and chamomile lingered on her tongue. She moved against him, guiding him down to lay under her. Bucky submitted to her bold advance, content to let her take the reins.

Slender legs straddled his hips. Delicate hands smoothed down his torso until they reached the hem of his knitted shirt. She eased it up over his rigid stomach, fingertips gliding over the nearly non-existent blemish from his fall.

"It has healed well. Barely a scar." She bent down and pressed her soft lips against his exposed flesh.

His pulse raced at the sensation, igniting his desire. She unbuttoned her soft flannel shirt, letting it fall open to reveal her smooth ivory skin.

Wanting to accept her obvious invitation to touch her, he held his restraint. All too aware of the pain his bionic limb was capable of inflicting. Though his flesh hand was no better. He'd killed with that one too. The memory of strangling Maria Stark flashed across his mind, sickening his stomach. For seventy years he'd been nothing but a menacing, emotionless machine. He had almost forgotten what human connection felt like.

He closed his eyes, willing his thoughts to vanish; begging his mind to give him this moment. Then she took his hand and guided it to the swell of her bra covered breast, permitting him to explore at his leisure.

Lena took the liberty to do the same and trailed her hands up his torso, his skin tingling in their wake. His body wanted more, to feel every inch of her. But his mind screamed in protest, reminding him of what he was.

Soft hands smoothed over his chest; his torso almost fully exposed to her eyes. Her fingers crept dangerously close to the bionic material of his shoulder that wove into his organic flesh. In a surge of panic, he grabbed her wrists, tugging her hands away.

She gasped. "What is wrong?"

"I…have scars…when I lost my arm…" He stammered.

Russet eyes studied him sympathetically. "It is okay. I want to see you." Her hands continued their exploration over his stomach, up his ribs, until they reached the chiseled outline of his chest. "All of you."

He halted her again. "Please, stop."

"Is it really that bad?"

"It's gruesome. Even I don't like looking it." It wasn't a lie.

A soft smile spread across her face. "Okay. We leave our shirts on."

He shuddered at the drag of her fingertips over his abdomen. Her hands tugged at his belt. Bucky's mind swirled with conflicted emotion. He shouldn't let this happen, but his human desire quickly extinguished the worry form his mind as she unzipped his jeans. She leaned down and captured his lips with hers. Heat from her body radiated over his.

"[Mama.]" Daniel's soft voice floated down the hallway, barely audible.

She froze above him.

"[Mama.]" The child's voice called louder.

"Damn," she sighed, sitting up and buttoning her shirt. "I am sorry. He has nightmares…"

Bucky tugged his shirt back down over his naked skin. "You have nothing to be sorry for. He needs you more than I do."

She gave him an appreciative smile, then headed down the hall to the bedroom.

Bucky huffed out a sigh of relief, though he couldn't deny the cold wave of disappointment that followed. He stood up to adjust his pants. Patting his pockets, he discovered his keys were missing. A quick scan of the small space revealed they weren't laying out in the open.

The couch.

He plunged his hands between the cushions, groping blindly until his fingers brushed over thick crumpled papers and then the cool metal of the keyring. He pulled them out along with a thin paperback children's book of American nursery rhymes. Shoving his keys back into his pocket, he noticed a photograph sticking out from between the wrinkled pages of the tattered book. Curiosity got the best of him and he pulled it free.

His blood went cold.

Four men stood posed shoulder to shoulder. Two in lab coats, the others in military style uniforms with HYDRA symbols embroidered on the shoulders.

* * *

**I had to clean this chapter up a little bit to keep it at a T rating. I hope it worked. But, what's the word, Hummingbirds? I'd love to hear from you.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"He is okay. Just a bad dream." Lena rounded the corner.

Bucky's skeptical eyes looked up from the photo.

"Is everything alright?" She asked, gently tugging the picture from his fingers. "Where did you find this?"

"In the couch cushions. I was looking for my keys…"

She slowly lowered herself to the couch, staring at the photo, mouth agape.

"Did you work for HYDRA?" Bucky asked bluntly. "Is that who you're hiding from?"

She looked up at him pleadingly. "My husband worked for HYDRA…and my father in-law." She pointed to the tall man on the far left. His face gruff and weathered, standing at attention in his crisp uniform. "This is my father in-law. He worked in the Winter Soldier Program…hoping to create stronger Soldiers. I am not sure if you are familiar?"

"Yes." He said.

She went on. "My husband, Alric, posed as a S.H.E.I.L.D. agent for Project Insight. Before his death, HYDRA agents took me…interrogated me…asking me about Alric's loyalty…I knew very little about what he did. After that, Alric hired Velimir to give us new names and a new life. We never saw Alric again." Tears rolled down her cheeks but her voice remained steady. "I was told he died on one of the destroyed Helicarriers, but I believe HYDRA killed him before that."

"I'm sorry…"

She shook her head. "It is not your fault."

His stomach lurched.

She looked up from the photo. Dark eyes gazing deep into steel blue. "My name, my real name is—"

Bucky gently spread his hand over her mouth. "We all have our secrets, Lena."

She took his hand in hers, kissing his palm.

"Stay," she said.

He smoothed his hand under her chin. "Another night," he kissed her sweetly on the lips. "I'll see you in the morning."

* * *

The last day of renovations on the house had been a busy one. Everything had to be cleaned up and hauled out. Bucky did almost all the hauling and for the first time, he was feeling it.

He stood with his back to the shower nozzle, lukewarm water running over his tired body. It was a welcomed change from the cold water the ancient plumbing usually delivered and he intended to enjoy every drop.

After he dried off and dressed, he laid on is neatly made bed, propped up with a pillow, book in hand. After only two pages, he dozed off.

Knocking at his door lurched him awake. Forgotten book sliding down his chest.

"[Just a minute!]" He yelled before getting to his feet.

Running his fingers through his hair, he shuffled his way to the door.

"Bucky, I am sorry to disturb you," Lena said, "but there is somewhere I need to go and I need you to watch over Daniel."

The panic he felt was clearly written all over his face.

"I know it is a lot to ask, but he does not need much. Just make him something to eat and make sure he is safe. I will only be gone a few hours."

"Uh, okay."

"Thank you."

"Where are you going?" He didn't really need to ask, he knew.

"I need to take care of something."

"Maybe I should come with you."

"I told you this already. I know how to deal with him. You do not." She said, arching an eyebrow as she glanced down at his balled fists.

As much as it pained him to let her go alone, he understood.

"I'll be down in a minute. I just need to grab a few things."

She nodded and turned to leave. Bucky stepped to the bathroom sink, collecting cold water in his cupped gloved hands. He splashed the water over his face; the coolness snapping him out of his drowsy state.

As he gathered his keys and book, he noticed his combat dagger, still sheathed in its holster next to his pillow. Thoughts of Lena's meeting with Velimir going bad, he grabbed it and headed out.

"You behave and listen to Bucky," Lena said to Daniel as she kissed his forehead.

"I will, mama."

Bucky took Lena by the hand, towing her into the kitchen.

"What is it?" She asked.

"Take this…" He said, shoving the leather cased dagger in her hand. "…It's meant to be concealed around your calf…"

"No." She shoved it back. "I will not need it."

He pushed it back into her palm. "Lena, please—"

"I would not know how to use it if I had to." She placed it on the island counter. "It is sweet that you are worried, but you do not need to be. Trust me. I will be okay." She took his face in her hands and kissed him. "I will see you soon."

"If I don't, I'll be coming to find you," he stated.

* * *

Bucky ladled steaming chicken soup from the pot on the stove into an oversized bowl.

"[Daniel,]" he said setting the bowl on the table. "[The soup is ready.]" He glanced around the open space of the apartment. "[Daniel.]" He called again.

Bucky marched down the hall to the only other place Daniel could be.

"[…don't make her cry anymore!]" He heard the boy say, followed by mock fighting sounds.

Bucky pushed open the bedroom door to find Daniel standing in a defensive stance with a dagger held firmly in his hand. The child straightened his posture and swung his hands behind his back.

"[What are you doing?]" Bucky asked suspiciously.

"[Nothing.]" Daniel said.

"[I saw the knife in your hand,]" Bucky said, holding out his hand. "[Give it to me.]"

Daniel hung his head in shame and handed over the weapon.

"[This is my dagger,]" Bucky stated. "[Explain.]"

"I was just pretending," he said.

"Pretending to what?"

"Pretending to fight the bad man."

"What bad man?"

"The one that comes to see my mother…the one that always makes her cry."

Bucky squatted down to Daniel's eye level. "I'm not sure your mother would be very happy with either of us if she knew you were playing with this."

Daniel nodded.

"Okay. Come and eat now."

Daniel meandered behind him in silence. He climbed into his chair and swirled his spoon around in the bowl, pushing the noodles to one side.

Bucky sat down across from him. "It is very brave of you to want to protect your mother."

Daniel nodded as he continued to toy with his food.

"Maybe I could teach you how to use it properly—"

The boy looked up from his soup, eyes wide with hope. "You would teach me?" He blurted out, cutting off Bucky's words before he could finish.

"_Only_ if your mother agrees." He stated.

Daniel scooped up a spoonful of soup and slurped it down eagerly.

When Lena arrived home, Daniel wasted no time divulging his and Bucky's informal agreement.

"Mama! Bucky said he would teach me how to protect you!"

"Really? And how would you do that?"

"With this!" Daniel held out the sheathed blade to Lena.

If her eyes could throw daggers, Bucky would have been a dead man. She snatched the blade from her son's hand.

"Go get yourself in the tub," she ordered him.

"But, mama I—"

"I will not ask you again!"

Daniel moped down the hall to the bathroom. Lena turned to Bucky, eyes storming with fury.

"You told my son you would teach him to use a knife…to stab someone?!"

"No! Not to stab, to defend—"

"What makes you think it would be okay to teach a seven-year-old boy how to use a weapon?!"

"I didn't," he raised his hands in defense. "He found the knife. I caught him playing with it when I was making him something to eat," he explained. "He said he wanted to protect you from the bad man that always makes you cry."

Lena's eyes traveled to the closed door of the bathroom. The sound of water filling tub echoed down the hall.

"I told him if you agreed, I would teach him. It seemed pretty important to him."

Lena's eyes became wells of tears. He stepped towards her and swept her hair behind her ear. "I didn't indeed to overstep any boundaries. I just—"

He feel silent as she wrapped her arms around his waist and began to sob into his chest.

Cradling her close, he didn't utter a word as he combed his fingers through her hair.

"Please stay tonight," she mumbled against his shirt.

Lena and Daniel shared the only bedroom. Trying to fit his six-foot frame on her five-foot long couch wasn't overly appealing. But if it made her feel better to have him there, then he wouldn't refuse her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Confusion set in as Bucky opened his eyes. He shot to his feet, stumbling against the rickety coffee table. Catching his balance, he began to recognize his surroundings. He pulled in a deep breath, trying to calm his racing pulse.

The sky outside still grey, a dim glow had just started to illuminate the horizon. He folded the sheets Lena had dressed the couch with and stacked them in a pile on the chair. Roaming his way to the kitchen, he examined her coffee pot when Lena came shuffling down the hall.

"Good morning." She said.

"Good morning."

She stopped next to him and slid her arms around his waist, pecking him on the cheek. His heart swelled. He liked how it felt; having someone. But that comforting warmth quickly turned to an icy ache that spread through his chest, knowing this wouldn't last. He couldn't hide his secret much longer.

"Did you sleep well?" Lena asked as she opened the tin container of coffee.

"Well enough."

Her cellphone rang. She answered it, speaking in her native tongue as Bucky continued to prepare the coffee.

"That was Emil. We have a new renovation job to start next week," she explained. "That means we have a few days to ourselves. Do you have plans for the day?"

Bucky shook his head.

"I need to visit the markets after I drive Daniel to school. Would you like to come? We could come back here for lunch."

"Sure."

* * *

After the markets, they returned to Lena's apartment where she had Bucky help her prepare vegetables for soup. Something about the mundane chore reminded him of his former life.

_He and his sister, peeling potatoes in the kitchen. She had poked fun at him over his haircut and he shoved her out of anger. His mother quickly scolded him; his sister smiling triumphantly._

He wondered if she was still alive. His hope died on the thought the she'd be nearly one hundred years old; the chance was slim.

"What is on your mind?" Lena asked.

He looked up from the carrot he was peeling, noticing her necklace was missing from around her neck.

"You gave your necklace to Velimir." He stated.

"Yes."

"You should have let me help you."

"How? Were you planning to pay him off with money you do not have or beat him up again?" She slid the potatoes off the cutting board into the stock pot on the stove. "I do not need you to solve my problems, Bucky." She began chopping the freshly peeled carrots. "I know you have plenty of your own."

She was right, he did have plenty. He needed to tell her and it had to be soon.

"Lena, there's something you need to know—"

She pressed her finger against his mouth. "Shh, not today." Then she kissed him; tongue slipping over his, petite hands tangled in his hair. He gave in and wrapped his arms around her delicate figure, pulling her close.

Cold hands slid up the back of his shirt as he lifted her to sit on the island counter, stepping between her knees. She tugged the hem of his shirt up over his torso. He gathered her hands in his, guiding them down.

She pulled away from his eager mouth, brown eyes questioning him. "I want to see you." Her gaze trailed down as she lifted his shirt, exposing his stomach.

"Lena…"

Her mouth swallowed his words. "I want to touch you," she heaved. "I want to feel your bare skin against mine." She began to unbutton her sweater. He took her hands, halting her again. "Do you want to feel me against you?"

"Yes," he huffed, pressing his forehead to hers.

"Then let me undress you."

"I'm…not…" He took a step back.

"Bucky, I am not afraid of your scars. I do not care that you have lost a limb. You cannot hide from me forever."

He didn't answer.

"Do you not trust me?" She asked.

"This isn't about trust. This is about the truth."

He pulled the glove from his hand, metal shimmering in the light. Lena slid down from the counter, watching him intently.

Reaching behind his neck, he tugged the collar of his shirt over his head. He pulled his right arm free, hesitating; keeping the fabric over his left. Lena's eyes moved over the exposed flesh of his human arm, stopping on his face, waiting for him to continue.

He finally pulled the shirt free from his body, revealing the scars that framed the metal fused to his skin. Bright red star gleaming on his cybernetic shoulder. Spots of reflected light danced over Lena's face as she inched her way around the island away from him. Her eyes trailing in horror up and down his lustrous arm.

"[The Winter Soldier.]" She said.

"Lena," he said stepping toward her.

"[No!]" She spat. "[Do not come near me.]" Her eyes filled with fear.

"[It all makes sense now,]" she said. "[Why did I not see what you are before?]"

"[I am not The Winter Soldier anymore,]" he tried to reason with her; with himself.

"[Yes. You are. You were created…programmed to be a killing machine.]"

He stepped towards her, reaching his flesh hand out to her. She backed away, keeping the distance between them. "[Lena, I would never hurt you…or Daniel—]"

"[Can you be sure?]" She cut over his words.

No, he couldn't be sure. His mind wasn't his own, he wasn't sure it ever truly would be again.

"[What if HYDRA finds you?]" She said. "[With me? With Daniel? I cannot risk having you in my life.]"

"[Lena, please, do not do this.]" He pleaded. The many weeks he had spent with her meant everything to him. She was all that tethered him to this new life he had acquired. His first real human connection in seventy years. He took another cautious step towards her.

Tears began to fall from her fierce eyes. She pulled open the last drawer on the island, retrieving the dagger he had promised to teach Daniel how to wield. She tore it from its sheath and hurled it across the kitchen. Bucky caught it by the handle with precise reflexes, but he could do nothing to block the wounds of her stinging words.

"[You are a monster. I want you to leave.]" She flung the dagger holster at him. He turned his head, letting it land hard against his bare chest.

A monster. Just like the one Mary Shelley wrote about, only Bucky was real. He had hunted and murdered many without question. Without care. Without fear. And he remembered all of it.

"[Lena, I'm begging you…please—]"

"[I do not want you in my life.]"

That was that. There was nothing else he could say. He had been lying not only to her, but to himself. He had been a fool to think he could have a chance at some kind of normal life.

Dejected and heartbroken, Bucky pulled his shirt back on, slid the blade into its sheath and walked out.

* * *

Bucky didn't sleep at all that night. The events of his revelation to Lena ran over and over in his mind, tearing at his heart with every painful thought.

In the morning, he had no choice but to travel back out to the markets, as he had very little to eat having relied on Lena's cooking. Hoping to go unnoticed, he stepped discreetly past her apartment, but he discovered her door slightly ajar. He pushed it open.

It was empty. Velimir must have collected them during the night to relocate them. He wondered where she would settle next, what color she would dye her hair, what her new name would be.

He stepped inside; boots echoing off the bare walls.

"[Hey! You are not supposed to be here.]" Said a middle-aged woman, carrying a thin file of papers in her hand.

"[Sorry, I was looking for someone.]" He said.

"[You should look someplace else.]"

He looked down at his gloved metal hand, balling it into a tight fist. The synthetic leather groaned over his knuckles.

"No, I shouldn't."

~The End~

* * *

**I know this story probably didn't end how some of you may have anticipated; especially if you are not familiar with the story I was inspired by (Avatar: The Last Airbender episode "Zuko Alone"). I still hope you enjoyed it and I thank you for taking the time to read it. Please leave your thoughts in the comments, I'd love to hear from you.**


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